


you make me bleed, but i must hold you

by okamiwind



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Framing Story, Immortality, M/M, Magical Realism, Omniscience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21623491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okamiwind/pseuds/okamiwind
Summary: a boy made of stars finds kyungsoo in the middle of a winter through which he didn't know he was living.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Do Kyungsoo | D.O
Comments: 40
Kudos: 87





	you make me bleed, but i must hold you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bibimkokobap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibimkokobap/gifts).



_The Boy with the Pricked Finger  
A Traditional Folktale_

_Once, there was a family. There was a man, a woman, one boy, and one girl. They had a black cat with green eyes, and their house had blue shutters and a big garden that stretched on into forever. They were a very happy family, and in the evenings, they sat around the kitchen table, cool winds pushing in through open windows, warm laughter pushing out. It was the sort of happiness that seemed never-ending._

_But then one day, an old, ugly witch darkened the door. The woman called the witch mother, and the boy looked at them in confusion as they embraced like old friends. She walked with a big stick, she cackled at whatever stories the man and the woman told her, and she pinched the boy and the girl’s cheeks._

_“My, you’ve grown,” the witch said, and the boy grimaced as her eyes twinkled at him._

_Late at night, the boy buried his head under his covers, praying that tomorrow would be the day when she finally left, but with every break of day, the witch rose with the sun, working with the woman in the garden. He ignored them both. Instead, he played with the girl on the swing that hung from the great oak tree in the front yard, content to let them do whatever it was they did, earth beneath their fingernails._  
  


☆

  
  
He used to be a chef.

He studied for years, honed his craft, nabbed star after star. Success followed him wherever he went, and for a long time, it was everything he wanted and more. He made more money than he could ever spend in a lifetime, more money than any person could ever need. That never sat right with him. 

In truth, he never liked everything that came along with it. Fame, notoriety… Kyungsoo never had much use for any of it. 

He just loved food, loved to make things that people loved. Liked building things. Making things bloom.

He is thirty one years old when he moves from New York to Santa Clara Valley and leaves everything else behind. He buys a small, manageable farm, and he donates as much to charity as he thinks he can spare. He retires from the public eye, and he begins to pursue his next dream. He becomes a farmer. 

Far away from everyone, sequestering himself in a rustic cabin meant for a family, Kyungsoo learns how to farm prickly pears. 

The first spring, he’s got absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He tries to plant from seeds, but it goes terribly. He under-waters the seedlings, and the root system is weak. He’s happy he put at least a bit away in savings, because without it, he wouldn’t be able to survive. 

The second spring, he’s done his research, spoken to more experienced farmers. After the temperatures are consistent in May, he resows, replants. He waters well, and he is rewarded with his farm full of prickly pear plants. He cares for them, keeps notes of their growth, and in the evenings, sitting on his porch swing, a cold beer resting on the railing, he writes little stories to pass the time. 

When it comes time to harvest the fruits another year down the line, Kyungsoo gets overeager. _Finally_ , he thinks. _After all this time._ He steps forward, overwhelmed with emotion. The work has been hard, but he gets to reap the rewards now. The fruits are plump and purple, and drawn to the fruit like a moth to the flame, he reaches in without another thought. 

A series of long sharp spines embed themselves in his finger, and wincing with pain, he withdraws his hand, biting his lip to stop himself from whining. He instinctively pulls them out one by one, gasping as a drop of blood pools at his fingertip, falling to the plant below, painting it red. He laughs, runs back to the cabin to nurse his wound. He’s an idiot, but he’s a happy idiot.  
  


☆

  
  
_When the spring fell over them, the woman asked the boy and the girl to help in the garden. The boy would rather play on his own, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He put on his boots, and he walked outside._

_They were put to work, burying seeds deep within the hands of the dirt. After a while, the boy decided he didn’t mind it much. He enjoyed getting dirty, finding worms, and playing with bugs, especially when the woman couldn’t yell at him about it._

_The sun rose high above them, and a line of sweat shone on the boy’s forehead. He tired of work, dreamt about playing in the open fields. His mind wandered so far from him that he couldn’t seem to collect it._

_“What’s that one?” the boy asked, and he pointed to the green plant in the back with the hard, flat leaves. It bore a pink flower, prettier than all the rest._

_“A cactus,” the woman told him. “Be careful not to touch it. It’s very special to her.” She gestured to the witch, and the boy frowned._

_Turning, the boy reached forward anyway, eager to test his limits, but when he got close, a hand closed around his wrist. He whipped around, eyes wide, saw the witch staring down at him. She pulled his hand back away from the plant._

_“Beautiful things often need the most protection,” the witch said, and she stared at the flowering cactus for a moment before pulling a spine from the cactus, showing it to the boy. She nodded to the woman. “You must listen to her. She knows what’s best for you.”_

_The boy shook out of her grip, frowning. The woman called for his help a moment later, and the boy hurried away from the witch, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure she hadn’t moved any closer to him._  
  


☆

  
  
After the swelling in his finger has gone down, Kyungsoo goes to harvest. He grabs his gloves, smiling at himself for making such a beginner’s mistake. He gingerly puts them on, grabs his basket, and walks out to the fields.

The mid-August sun shines down over him, puts a line of sweat on the back of his neck. He lets it drip down the back of his shirt as he picks his very first fruit, the juice dripping out dark red like blood. Kyungsoo’s throat hurts as the emotion overwhelms him, the first fruit of his labor, and he puts it in his basket, satisfied in the basest way. It is wonderful, planting the seed and seeing it bloom. 

He walks up and down the clean rows, filling basket after basket. He’ll sell some, make juice and jam from some others. Maybe he’ll even make a barbecue sauce. He bets that would be delicious. 

His mind wanders in the heat as the day passes pleasantly, but then, something catches his eye, a glint of magic in the desert. He walks to it, the basket braced against his hip. He drops the basket, cradles the fruit between his gloved hands. 

Smaller, pinker than the rest. Kyungsoo gets to his knees before it, turns his head, observes the surroundings. The fruits on either side of it have fallen to the earth, and Kyungsoo pushes them back, ignores them. For some strange reason, he is transfixed by the little unripe pear. He supposes some are just late bloomers. He decides to give it a little bit more time. At the very least, the foxes will get their share, spreading the seeds. 

He heads back into the house with his bounty, eager to begin the next stages. He’s got so many ideas.  
  


☆

  
  
_The boy sat in his bedroom, and he stared out the window at the garden. He couldn’t take his eyes off the cactus. There was something so tempting about it, and much as he tried, he could not forget. It was difficult to ignore things he wanted to do, especially things that the woman told him were bad ideas._

_Early one morning, when the man, the woman, the witch, and the girl were all busy in the house, the boy went outside by himself. He threaded his way through the plants carefully, creeping over towards the cactus. It was so interesting. He needed to know why it was so special. He needed to know why the witch brought it and why she was staying there with them._

_Slowly, he reached out to touch the cactus, and when the spine embedded itself in the tip of the boy’s finger, he bit down on a scream. He was horrified at the way it stuck in him, nearly totally buried in his skin. His hands shook as he pulled it from his finger._

_It left behind a red welt, and the boy cried as he looked upon it, vowing that he would get rid of the cactus if it was the last thing he did._  
  


☆

  
  
Kyungsoo works hard, and he makes great progress. It is rewarding work, especially since it’s always been his dream ever since he was a child. Sometimes, of course, lonely feelings creep up in the evening, but it’s easy enough to bat them away. He often writes stories about people falling in love, and in that way, he feels like _he_ is falling in love too, and the empty nights aren’t so empty anymore. Instead, they are filled with magic, courtship, and destiny. Kyungsoo’s never been much for love, but the fantasies are nice.

He finds his own destiny one day when he is mulching. The spot where the little unripened pear rested… Kyungsoo almost chokes when he sees what’s growing now. 

At first, all he sees is that same shade of pale pink. Covered in spines. And then he realizes… it isn’t a pear. It is a hand. Kyungsoo backs away, the bag of mulch falling to the ground with a heavy _thump_. Kyungsoo blinks, eyes watering. 

He approaches after a moment of self-convincing, and he takes the hand in his own. Even through the glove, he can feel the warmth. _Thank God_ , he thinks. 

Kyungsoo sweeps at the lightly packed soil around him, and there, resting in the earth, is a man. His body is naked and strange, and he sleeps as Kyungsoo slowly reveals him. His hands and his feet are tinged pink, littered with needles and glochids. His hair is rusted red, his eyelashes long and full. His lips are pink and small, a sharp Cupid’s bow. His cheeks are blushing, and his chest gently rises and falls. Kyungsoo puts two fingers to the man’s neck, feels the thumping of life. 

Kyungsoo sits back for a minute, collects himself. Just what exactly is he doing? And what is happening to him? 

The man that rests in front of him is ethereal, lovely. Delicate features. A soft brow. Kyungsoo swallows as he leans back in to work. 

He can barely breathe as he brushes the man clean, and once he’s done so, he wonders where he goes from here. Wonders whether or not he’s supposed to get authorities involved. He’s never been fond of authorities. 

Suddenly, without much warning, the man opens his eyes. Brown like the soil. 

“Hello,” he says. “I’ve been waiting to find you.” 

“W-What?” Kyungsoo answers. 

“I’ve been waiting.” He smiles at Kyungsoo, blinding and beautiful. “My name is Baekhyun, and you are the love of my life.”  
  


☆

  
  
_It took awhile for him to devise a plan, but once he did, he knew that it would be done before the summer was over. He sat on the stairs at the back of the house, watching the witch and the woman work in the morning, and he held his finger in his hand as if the cactus was poised to strike again._

_The witch approached him, and the boy scuttled back until he was leaning against the wall of the step._

_“Why do you stare at the cactus like that?” the witch asked. “You look like you hate it.”_

_“I do hate it,” the boy told her. “I don’t like that plant at all.”_

_“Why not?” the witch asked. “What’s it done to you?”_

_“It pricked me!” The boy held out his hand, showed the witch the injury on the tip of his finger, the way it pulsed red. “I’d like to take all the spines out so it can’t hurt anyone ever again.”_

_He folded his arms across his chest, feeling proud of himself, but the pride fell to something uglier as the witch crouched down, looking into his eyes._

_“Don’t do that,” the witch said. “You mustn’t.”_

_“I can do whatever I like,” the boy said. “It’s in_ my _garden, and_ you _brought the thing here.” He grimaced at her. “It’s_ dangerous _.”_

_“I’m warning you, boy,” the witch said, and she waggled her finger at him the way the woman sometimes did. “You’ll only end up hurting yourself.”_

_The boy was already hurting, nursing a wound that feels endless. He pouted as he nodded, telling her he would heed her words, but the heartbeat in his finger told him that he was right, that the witch was wrong, and that the cactus would be gone by morning if he had anything to do with it._  
  


☆

  
  
The stranger who calls himself Baekhyun sits at Kyungsoo’s kitchen table in a set of Kyungsoo’s old sweats, a cup of tea between his needled hands.

“Say it again,” Kyungsoo commands, and he paces through the living room. “Tell it to me again.” 

“I was born in the stars three thousand years ago,” Baekhyun says happily. “And upon the sparkling tail of a comet, I traveled the universe until I was able to find my soulmate. Until I found you.” Baekhyun sets the cup down, untouched, and he walks over towards Kyungsoo. “You are my soulmate, Kyungsoo. I have been trying to find you for so very long.”

Kyungsoo instinctively backs away as Baekhyun approaches him. 

“S-Soulmates aren’t real.” 

“Yes, we are,” Baekhyun assures him. “You write about them almost every night.”

“That’s because writing is an outlet for pers—wait, how do you know about my writing?” 

“I know everything about you, Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun says. “I know everything about everyone.” 

“Oh my God, you can’t just… you can’t just say things like that,” Kyungsoo says. He turns, stares at the blank screen of the television. “I’m hallucinating. I’m hallucinating, and none of this is real.” 

“It is real,” Baekhyun’s voice says, small and sweet, and Kyungsoo tries to ignore him, “but if you’d like, I could help you test your theory.” 

Kyungsoo turns, interest peaked, and he stares at Baekhyun. Kyungsoo can almost fool himself into thinking that Baekhyun fell from a star just by the look in his eyes, alive with light. 

“How?” Kyungsoo asks. Baekhyun steps forward, offers Kyungsoo his hand. “I don’t have gloves on.” 

“See if it hurts,” Baekhyun tries. “If it doesn’t hurt, it isn’t real.” 

“It won’t hurt. It isn’t real. None of this is real.” 

“Then, take my hand,” Baekhyun says. “But I should warn you… it _will_ hurt because this _is_ real.” 

It is a stupid line of logic, but Baekhyun smiles at Kyungsoo like he is the break of day and Kyungsoo firmly believes that anyone in his position would be charmed into stupidity much the same way. 

Kyungsoo stretches across the distance, and the first second that they touch, there is an unnameable spark, glittering through the air. Kyungsoo knew it was a dream. He just knew it. Confident, he tugs Baekhyun a bit closer, and then… then, he looks down, belatedly realizing what he’s just done. 

Hundreds of spines stick him, barbs of the glochids pushing underneath his skin. He begins to shake, the shock of it making him tremble and curse, the words caught in his mouth. 

“F-F—” 

Heat rises to his face as his brain tries to rationalize all the nerves firing angry and red. 

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun apologizes, and he frowns, still impossibly beautiful. “Does it hurt terribly?” 

“S-Shut up,” Kyungsoo shivers, and he knows he must end this soon. 

Something about it, though, something about Baekhyun makes him want to touch, makes him want this even through all the pain. He must be hallucinating. The pain is too bright. It’s making him crazy, and Baekhyun will be gone by morning. 

Finally, _finally_ , Kyungsoo is able to tug his hand away, the tears brimming immediately. 

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo curses. “W-Why did you let me do that?” 

“You are stubborn,” Baekhyun says. “You must test your limits in order to know what you are capable of and what you are _not_ capable of. You cannot rest until you know.” 

Kyungsoo stands back, a little disturbed by the emotional takedown the likes of which he’s only experienced from his astrology app.

“P-P-Put the gloves on,” he orders, pointing with his good hand. “A-And until I can figure out what’s going on, keep them on.” 

“As you say,” Baekhyun smiles, and he turns, grabs Kyungsoo’s gloves from the table. He threads his fingers through the gloves. “Anything else?” 

He can barely think with all the sensory information overwhelming him, and he stumbles back into the kitchen. 

“N-No. Just sit there until I’m… until I’m able to get all these out.” 

Kyungsoo grabs his first aid kit from one of the cabinets. He sits down at the table, and Baekhyun only stands there. Kyungsoo looks up at him, looks back down at his hand, at the little hair-like needles embedded in his flesh. 

“Are you angry with me?” Baekhyun asks. 

“You just stuck me full of needles.” 

“I told you it was real. You didn’t listen.” 

“I’m an idiot,” Kyungsoo says, the humor of the situation not entirely lost on him. “What do you want from me?” 

Baekhyun bites his lip as he sits down in front of Kyungsoo, his gloved hands folded together in his lap. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Stay away from me,” Kyungsoo says, and he pulls a spine out, wincing in pain. “I can do it myself.” 

“I am an adept healer,” Baekhyun offers. 

“Healer?” 

“I am able to heal,” Baekhyun explains, like _that_ was the bit lost in translation. 

“Just fix me,” Kyungsoo says hurriedly. “It hurts _so_ bad.” Baekhyun laughs, the most beautiful smile on his face. He steps forward, straddles Kyungsoo in the chair. “W-What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Healing you.” He wraps his arms around Kyungsoo’s neck. “Stay still, won’t you?” 

“L-Listen, I don’t know how it is for… for stars or whatever, but this is—” 

And then, Kyungsoo falls silent as Baekhyun leans forward, pressing his forehead against Kyungsoo’s. The effect is instantaneous. All of the pain from Kyungsoo’s hand is pulled away into nothingness, evaporates into the air like steam rising from their bodies. He moans at the feeling, and at first, he is horrified, but before he knows it, he cannot control it, groaning out in satisfaction as the agony clatters away just like the spines and barbs that fall silently to the floor. 

Kyungsoo looks into Baekhyun’s eyes, brow angling in confusion as Baekhyun continues to magic him whole again. 

“Does that feel better?” Baekhyun asks, and his mouth is so close to Kyungsoo’s that Kyungsoo can almost taste him. “Is there anything else that hurts?” 

There is a funny temptation to say that _everything_ hurts just so he can keep Baekhyun in this position for the rest of their lives, but Kyungsoo stupidly shakes his head _no_. 

Baekhyun smiles as he unwinds himself from Kyungsoo’s embrace, and a shudder runs down Kyungsoo’s spine as he looks down at his hand, skin fresh and pristine.  
  


☆

  
  
_Under the cover of the black night, the boy threw back the blankets from his bed, and quietly padded along the creaking floors. The girl stirred, but he shushed her back to sleep before he walked down the stairs. He grabbed shears from the woman’s basket, and he opened the door to the garden. There was only the light of the moon to guide him, and he gingerly stepped over and around the beautiful blooms, making his way back to where the cactus had taken root._

_He opened the shears, and the first time he closed them along the skin of the cactus, he was delighted by the way the spines and prickly bits fell to the ground beneath. Happily, he hacked away at the cactus until there were no needles left, no danger left undealt with._

_After the deed was done, he climbed the steps, went back into the house, and deposited the shears back where he found them. He went back to bed. As he shut his eyes, he fell into a deep sleep, the most restful night he’d ever had._  
  


☆

  
  
Even within the realms of ridiculous, intricate dreams, Kyungsoo is polite.

He runs a bath for Baekhyun, provides him with a towel and sweet-smelling soap, and while Baekhyun is busy in the water, Kyungsoo changes the linens on the bed. Baekhyun walks out of the bathroom with a cloud of lavender-scented steam following him, the gloves pulled tightly over his hands once more. 

“Here,” Kyungsoo says, and he gestures back to the bed. “You can sleep here.” 

“It is big enough for two,” Baekhyun says. “And we are soulmates. We are bound to rest together.” 

Kyungsoo points down by the foot of the bed. He’s already gone ahead and set up a little nest of blankets and pillows for himself. 

“I’m good,” he promises. “Sleep in the bed. You’ll be gone by morning.” 

“How else could I convince you?” Baekhyun asks. “What could I do to prove to you that I am real?” 

“Survive the night,” Kyungsoo smiles. 

“And you promise?” 

“Promise what?” 

“That you will believe me then?” 

“Sure,” Kyungsoo says. “I promise.” 

Baekhyun smiles, cheeks red and happy as he pulls back the sheet and the comforter. He tucks himself into Kyungsoo’s bed, and strangely, the sight of him cuddled up with his gloves clutching the covers to his chin sends a shot of affection straight to Kyungsoo’s heart. 

“It is very impolite to break a promise,” Baekhyun says, and he shuts his eyes. “Do remember that.” 

Kyungsoo lies on the floor at the foot of the bed, and while it is normally very easy for him to fall asleep, it does not comes easily to him that night. He lies awake, thinking about the metaphorical implications of soulmates from the stars who should not touch. _If nothing else_ , he thinks, _this would make a pretty story._  
  


☆

  
  
The morning comes, and Kyungsoo stretches uncomfortably. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept on the floor, and he is getting old now. It is not the easiest thing in the world anymore. He grimaces, trying to remember the dream he had. It was vivid, colorful, but he can’t seem to recall any of the details or faces. He sits up, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the bed move.

Sucking in a breath, he gets to his knees, looking over the bed. Baekhyun is there, looking back at him. 

“Hello,” he offers. “You made a promise.”

“Y-Yeah, I suppose I did,” Kyungsoo says stupidly.

Baekhyun, hands still covered by the gloves, pulls the blankets closer to his body. Kyungsoo swallows as he watches the movement. Kyungsoo thinks about kicking him out. He let a strange, deranged man stay the night. Surely there’s something wrong with him. 

Baekhyun stares back at him like he can read minds.

“What?” Kyungsoo says.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Baekhyun says.

“You came here unannounced.”

“Yes,” Baekhyun says simply. 

Kyungsoo sighs, gets to his feet. There is something pitiable about Baekhyun, weak in the new world that he’s been thrown into. Kyungsoo has a soft spot for weak things. 

“Just until the end of the month,” Kyungsoo says. “If you know everything about me—”

“And I do.” 

“Then you’ll know I came here because I wanted to be alone,” Kyungsoo finishes. “I’ll give you time to… to sort out other arrangements.” 

Baekhyun smiles at Kyungsoo like he knows a secret before he bows his head. 

“As you say,” Baekhyun says.  
  


☆

  
  
_The next morning, he woke to find the woman and the witch at the kitchen table. The witch had her head in her hands, and the woman had her hand on the witch’s back. Not for the first time, the boy resisted the urge to tell the woman that the witch was dangerous, that she should not be so friendly with such a person._

_“What’s the matter?” the boy asked. “What’s wrong?”_

_“The cactus,” the woman said. “Something happened to it in the night.”_

_The witch stared at him with a knowing gaze, and fear drove straight into his heart much the same as the spine stuck straight into his flesh. He swallowed thickly, waiting for her to tattle on him, but the tattling never came._

_Instead, he stood there wordlessly as the witch broke down into tears over her cactus. The woman tried to comfort her, but she bore no fruit. The witch cried and cried._

_The boy walked to the window, and he parted the curtains. Sure enough, the cactus looked perfectly fine, still flowering and beautiful, only totally without spines. Satisfied, he closed the curtains. She was overreacting, he thought, and once she realized what a service he had done, she would thank him for his good work._  
  


☆

  
  
Kyungsoo hasn’t been around people much since he moved, and suddenly having to entertain puts him in an uncomfortable position, especially with his current guest. Baekhyun explains that he doesn’t have to eat, only _wants_ to. Kyungsoo puts himself to work, intent on giving him the best Eggs Benedict that he’ll ever have, immortal or not.

Kyungsoo is in the middle of vigorously whisking his Hollandaise, and he looks back over his shoulder, keeping an eye on Baekhyun. 

“Pretend as if I’m not here,” Baekhyun says, and he waves his gloved hands in the air. “I am naught but stardust.” 

“Kids say the darndest things,” Kyungsoo says, and he turns back to the stove. Interestingly enough, it gets a chuckle from Baekhyun. “Familiar with that one?” 

“I am familiar with all things.” 

Kyungsoo looks back again. “All things?” 

Baekhyun nods sagely. “All things.” His head tilts to the side, a puppy who’s heard an interesting sound. “Would you like to test my knowledge, Kyungsoo?”  
It feels like a dare that he shouldn’t be rising to, judging from Baekhyun’s ability to cut right to the core of him, but Kyungsoo can’t resist that kind of invitation. 

“Let me finish breakfast,” Kyungsoo says. “This is a lot to take in.” 

Dutifully, he plates up their food, the fresh Hollandaise lovingly ladled over the dishes. Finally, he sprinkles chopped chives over the plates, and he smiles as he finishes. He places Baekhyun’s plate in front of him, sits down opposite of him. Kyungsoo picks up his fork, can’t keep himself from asking. 

“Have you ever eaten before?” 

“It is my first meal, actually.” 

“Really?” Kyungsoo asks, and he slices into his poached egg, the pleasant yellow spilling out. “Why not?” He looks up, looks down at breakfast. “Couldn’t you have… like, visited? Touched down on Earth every once in a while.” 

“I could have. I wanted to wait,” Baekhyun says. “I wanted to share my firsts with you.” 

It puts a lump of emotion in Kyungsoo’s throat, something he finds difficult to swallow over. 

“Eat,” Kyungsoo commands. 

“All right, Kyungsoo.” 

Kyungsoo tries to remain uninterested, but it’s been a while since he’s seen someone taste his food for the first time. He peeks up as Baekhyun cuts through the open-faced sandwich, raises a perfect little stacked square to his strawberry pink mouth. Baekhyun’s face after he tastes his first bite is beautiful, wonderful, and Kyungsoo forces himself to look to his own plate as he smiles through a comment. 

“Didn’t you already know what it tasted like?” Kyungsoo teases. 

He’s met with a funny silence, and he can’t ignore that. He looks up at Baekhyun, finds him looking down at his food. 

“Yes.” He tilts his head to the side again. “Butter is forefront on the palate. Lemon brings acidity to cut through the richness of the hollandaise. Umami, salt, a sweetness from the Canadian bacon. A certain bite and freshness from the garnish of chives. I know all this. And yet…,” he looks up at Kyungsoo, smiles, “knowing is different from living.” 

For some reason, it makes tears leap to Kyungsoo’s eyes. 

“Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

A beat. 

“You took that personally,” Baekhyun asks. “Why?” 

“I-I don’t know.” 

Baekhyun smiles, hollow like he knows what’s going through Kyungsoo’s head. “Yes, you do.” He reaches forward, his gloved hand strangely sad when it wraps around Kyungsoo’s. “You just aren’t ready to tell me.” The smile turns happy, bright like the sun. “It doesn’t matter. I can wait until you are ready.” 

Kyungsoo sniffs, draws his hand back, and he gestures to the plate. 

“Eat,” he says for a second time, and he doesn’t have to say it a third. 

They eat in relative silence, but occasionally, Baekhyun will make a happy noise that seems to slip out. Kyungsoo doesn’t watch Baekhyun even though he comes to terms with the fact that he _wants_ to. It is then that Kyungsoo realizes that Baekhyun is hearing his words as they blink into his head. Kyungsoo glances up, finds Baekhyun grinning wryly at him. 

When they’re finished, Baekhyun moves before Kyungsoo can, stealing the plates away to the sink, pulling the gloves from his hands. 

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says. “Hey, that’s…” 

“It is a common domestic agreement,” Baekhyun says. “The person who does not cook washes the dishes.” 

“This is not a domestic situation.” 

“We are in a house,” Baekhyun argues. “What’s more domestic than this?” 

Kyungsoo scoffs, but before Kyungsoo knows it, Baekhyun is plunging the dishes into the sink full of soapy water, using his needled hands to scrub at the pans and bowls and plates. 

“D-Does it hurt?” Kyungsoo asks. “Using your needles like that?” 

“No,” Baekhyun smiles, and he places a rinsed frying pan to the drying rack. “It’s like a fingernail.” 

“Right,” Kyungsoo says, and he sits with his hands in his lap. 

“Is it time then?” 

“Time for what?” 

“For questions,” Baekhyun says. 

“U-Uh, sure. Um… how far is the sun?” 

“Ninety two point nine six million miles.” 

“What’s the meaning of life?” 

“Love,” Baekhyun says easily as he finishes up the dishes. “Of course.” 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Who won Major League Baseball’s Most Valuable Player Award in 1925?” He raises his eyebrows. “Hm?” 

Baekhyun tilts his head as he walks back to the table, sitting beside Kyungsoo. “A trick question?” He smiles. “Ah. But you don’t realize it’s a trick question.” 

“What?” 

“The modern version of the colloquially known MVP Award was first awarded in 1931 to Lefty Grove of the Philadelphia Athletics and Frankie Frisch of the St. Louis Cardinals,” Baekhyun smiles. “Two MVPs are named each year, one for each league. But prior to the modern incarnation, in 1925, Roger Peckinpaugh of the Washington Senators and Rogers Hornsby of the St. Louis Cardinals won.” 

“I don’t know about baseball,” Kyungsoo says blankly. “I don’t know why I asked that.” 

Baekhyun stares at him with a smile before he erupts into laughter, the kind that easily draws Kyungsoo into a quiet laugh. 

“My turn now.”

“Your turn?” 

“Why did you stop cooking?” Baekhyun asks. 

“I didn’t stop cooking,” Kyungsoo answers. 

“You know very well what I mean.” 

Kyungsoo sighs. “If you’re omniscient, then don’t you already know?” 

Baekhyun leans forward, elbows on the table as he rests his chin in his hands. 

“Yes,” Baekhyun says. “But I’d like to see if you’ll lie.” 

“I came here because I wanted to be alone,” Kyungsoo says. 

“Then why am I here?” Baekhyun asks. 

“I don’t know.” 

‘Yes, you do.” 

Kyungsoo looks away. “I have work to do.” 

“I’ll help you,” Baekhyun says. 

“I don’t want your help.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

Kyungsoo sighs before nodding. 

“Put the gloves back on, then.” 

Baekhyun smiles giddily, slipping the gloves back on before following Kyungsoo outside.  
  


☆

  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t like being wrong about things, which is why he hates that Baekhyun grows on him easily. He forgets that he didn’t want this. Forgets that Baekhyun is a near stranger. Forgets, because over the course of the month, he learns everything there is to know about Baekhyun.

Days feel shorter with Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo tries not to keep an eye on the calendar. He thinks about what he said. One month. He hates thinking about it, forcing Baekhyun out. Where would he go? What would he do? 

They sit on the porch swing in the evenings, and Kyungsoo drinks as they talk about deep things, terrible things, beautiful things. All of it. 

“When we do those personality tests, do you just pick whatever you feel in the moment?” Kyungsoo asks. 

“I pick things that I think will make you laugh,” Baekhyun says. He turns, his eyes glittering, gorgeous. “Or things that will make you angry.” 

“But I think you… I think I’m starting to figure you out,” Kyungsoo says. 

“Well, I don’t have a clear identity,” Baekhyun says, and he looks up to the sky. “At least, I wasn’t born with one.” 

“Are any of us?” 

“I believe so. I know you were. Strong, sweet, sure of yourself,” Baekhyun says, and he folds his gloved hands up. He is pretty. Kyungsoo hates him. The thought makes Baekhyun giggle. “Ah. You think I’m pretty.” 

Kyungsoo looks away. 

“You know what you look like,” Kyungsoo says. 

“Pretty?” Baekhyun runs his lumpy hand through his auburn hair, pushing it back from his face. “Do you really think so?” 

“You know what I think.” 

“I like to hear you say things rather than think them,” Baekhyun admits. 

“Why?” 

Baekhyun shrugs his shoulder. “Feels unfair.” 

“Is there any way for you to stop hearing things?” Kyungsoo asks. “Like, stop your omniscience?” 

“There is,” Baekhyun says, and he doesn’t elaborate. 

Kyungsoo looks off to the fields, rows and rows of pink, green, red. 

“I think I like you,” Kyungsoo confesses. 

“Thank you.” 

Kyungsoo looks over at him. “It’s only been three and a half weeks.” He closes his eyes. Opens them again. Baekhyun hasn’t looked away, hasn’t blinked off into the stars. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s too soon.” 

“Who says?” Baekhyun asks. “Who says it’s too soon?” 

“I do,” Kyungsoo says. He sips at his beer. “I think it’s too soon.” 

“Because you are fearful?” 

“Fearful of what?” 

“Fearful of me?” Baekhyun suggests. “That I am still just a dream? That I have the power to hurt you if I leave?” 

Kyungsoo swallows, and he takes another sip of his beer. The carbonation makes tears form at the corners of his eyes. He nods, looking at the stars. 

Kyungsoo just sits there, staring at the night sky, as Baekhyun’s hand comes to rest upon his, the rough, tough material comforting now. 

“I will never leave you, Kyungsoo.” 

“Do you promise?” Kyungsoo asks. 

“I promise.” 

Kyungsoo looks at him. “Why?” His eyes are watering. 

“Because we are soulmates,” Baekhyun answers. “Me, born from stars. You, born from cells… all so that we could spend this life together.” 

“I-I don’t deserve this,” Kyungsoo tells him. 

“You deserve to be happy,” Baekhyun answers. “Are you?” 

“With you? Yes.” 

Baekhyun smiles as he takes Kyungsoo by the back of the neck, and Kyungsoo’s eyes go wide as he thinks _Yes, yes, yes._

“Say it, won’t you?” Baekhyun whispers. 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says, and he bites his lip, remembers the definition of the word bravery. “Kiss me.” 

“As you say.” 

The amber of the porch light and the blue of the moon paints over them as Baekhyun pulls Kyungsoo to him, as they fall into each other, their lips brushing together and sparkling in the night. Kyungsoo kisses him, kisses him with all he has, and thinks the words that he can’t yet say. 

_I was misanthropic and lonely, but you put that in perspective, gave me context, gave me understanding. I didn’t want to be alone, I only wanted to be alone with you._

Baekhyun makes a soft noise against Kyungsoo’s mouth, his lips soft and sweet. 

“Does that mean I can stay?” Baekhyun asks, and his eyes are shut like he’s scared of Kyungsoo rejecting him. 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says. “Stay. As long as you want.” 

“Forever, then,” Baekhyun says. “Is that scary for you?” 

“Fucking terrifying.” 

Baekhyun leans in, and he kisses Kyungsoo again. 

“The best kinds of love are scary at the start,” Baekhyun says. “Ah, did I say love?” He smiles, silly. “I only meant _like_.” 

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo says, and he pulls Baekhyun into another kiss. Now that he’s had it once, it’s difficult to not have it whenever he wants it.  
  


☆

  
  
_Within seven sets of the sun, the boy had realized his mistake. He watched as the cactus turned sicker and sicker, festering wounds where the spines had been cut. The flesh that was once hard, green, and proud became soft and mushy, greying and foul-smelling. He held his breath as he approached. It was disgusting, wretched, and as he stood there, nose pinched between his fingers, he saw that it was all his fault._

_A hand came to hold him by the shoulder, and he turned, tears in his eyes. He stared up at the witch who was no longer a witch, but a woman of wisdom and compassion. She was a gardener, he realized, and she came to make things grow._

_“Do you see now?” the gardener asked, and she released her hold on him. She reached forward to stroke the side of the sick cactus, petting along the disease. “Do you understand?”_

_“Yes,” the boy cried. “I’m sorry.”_

_“I know,” the gardener said, and she knelt to the earth before him, gathering him up in her arms. His tears fell to her shoulder, watered the soil beneath them both. “I know.”_  
  


☆

  
  
Half a year passes, and everything in Kyungsoo’s world changes, painted in the greens of life. They sleep next to each other in the same bed. They stand next to each other in the bathroom as they brush their teeth. Kyungsoo always cooks, and Baekhyun always washes the dishes. Baekhyun heals the crops when they become over-watered in a sudden rainstorm that drenches the valley. Kyungsoo makes prickly pear wine, and they sit on the porch swing, sipping from the same cup.

They hold hands, Kyungsoo’s bare skin against the glove that protects him from Baekhyun’s spines. Baekhyun leans his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. It is exactly what Kyungsoo always wanted, never realized he wanted. He has always reviled the feeling of vulnerability, but now, he wants to share himself in every way. He wants all of his days to be this easy and free. _I want this forever,_ he thinks before he can stop himself. _I want as long as I can get._

“Are you almost ready for bed?” Baekhyun asks. 

“Yeah.” He pats his legs, stands before offering Baekhyun a hand. 

Baekhyun takes it, smiling coyly at Kyungsoo, and a little thrill of heat runs through Kyungsoo’s body. Baekhyun looks at him like that a lot nowadays, like he’s waiting for Kyungsoo to make his move. Waiting for Kyungsoo to take them both to bed. Waiting for Kyungsoo to put all the thoughts into words. 

Kyungsoo leads Baekhyun back into the house without words, the porch light silently falling dark as the door closes shut behind them. The bedroom feels thick with heat as they strip their clothes off, and when Baekhyun grabs his sleep shirt, he keeps it between his hands, staring at Kyungsoo. Daring him. 

“Wait,” Kyungsoo says sharply. 

The shirt falls to the floor. 

“What?” Baekhyun asks. “Should I wear something different?” 

It is a deliberate tease, and Kyungsoo ignores it as he rounds the bed, hands on either side of Baekhyun’s throat as he kisses him hard, pulls their bodies tightly together. Baekhyun moans, eager and high, and it makes Kyungsoo crazy, makes his head dizzy with desire. 

Their bodies melt on the bed, the covers thrown to the floor. Kyungsoo yearns to feel Baekhyun’s hands on his, dangerous as they might be, but he settles for this approximation, the rough fabric skimming along his skin. It leaves his nerves frayed at the ends, and he shivers as he rolls Baekhyun onto his back, as they grind into each other, hard and wet. 

Kyungsoo shivers as he realizes what he is about to do, what _they_ are about to do to each other, and reaching around his body, he runs wet fingers along his hole, trying to focus on opening himself up as Baekhyun kisses him dumb. 

“Are you sure this is the way you want it?” Baekhyun asks, and he too reaches around Kyungsoo’s body, pets along where Kyungsoo’s fingers are sinking into his body. “Kyungsoo, you must know that I would do anything you wanted.” 

_Don’t make me say it,_ Kyungsoo says. _I don’t like being so open with another person. I can’t shoulder the light of stars._

“Please,” Baekhyun says. “I love to hear your words in your own voice.” 

“T-This way,” he says.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says. “Please.” 

Baekhyun kisses down his neck, sucks a mark to the hollow of his throat. Bruising red. Beautiful. He is slow to move Kyungsoo to his back. He leans back, stares down at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo resists the urge to cover himself. To regain some semblance of control. 

_Love is about losing control. Love is about letting yourself go. Giving yourself freely,_ he thinks. _I give myself freely. I am letting myself go. I am losing control._

“You’ve never spoken so nicely to me,” Baekhyun teases. “You must have been thinking about this. About us together.”

“Y-You know I have,” Kyungsoo moans. “So just—” 

“Just?” 

“Just do it,” Kyungsoo whines. “Come on, I…” 

“You what?” 

“I want you,” Kyungsoo says, and he shuts his eyes tight before looking back up at Baekhyun angrily. “Happy?” 

“Immensely,” Baekhyun says, and his body falls to Kyungsoo’s, their skin sticking together with sweat. “I love you, Kyungsoo.” 

A terrible swelling in the pit of his stomach… it feels like the foundation settling. He is ready now. Ready to finally say the words swimming in his head. 

“I love you.” 

For the first time, Baekhyun looks at Kyungsoo with shock on his face, like he didn’t think Kyungsoo would say it, like he didn’t think Kyungsoo was capable. 

“I’ve always thought you capable,” Baekhyun says. “Just a little stubborn.” 

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo says. “Shut up and fuck me.” 

Baekhyun smiles as he sighs, gingerly touching Kyungsoo before he kisses him thoroughly. 

“As you say.” 

Baekhyun pushes inside him slowly, and Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed with pleasure as they drench themselves in as many sorts of love as they can manage. 

They move together with the ease of the lovers he’s written, the kind of love that Kyungsoo’s never had before now. The sounds of Baekhyun’s pleasure drives him forward, drags him towards the lovely edge. Sex is only one piece of them, one shard of glass in the endless mosaic. When they come together, the world is bright, beautiful, and kind. Changed. New.  
  


☆

  
  
Kyungsoo keeps a journal of their days together, and on day 433, they are resting in bed, the sweat that was pouring from them just moments ago now cooled. Baekhyun sits up, and Kyungsoo watches the beautiful curve of his back as he stretches. The morning light is warm, and Kyungsoo thinks about asking Baekhyun if they can nap later in the day. He likes to nap with Baekhyun.

Baekhyun stands, pulls at his gloves to readjust. His face twists in confusion, and Kyungsoo props himself up on his elbow. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Baekhyun pulls the glove from his hand, and Kyungsoo gasps. The spines… they fall to the floor. 

“Oh,” Baekhyun says, and he takes off his other glove, the needles continuing to fall from his hands. He picks one off, smiles. “It means I am becoming a human.” 

“A what?” 

“A human,” Baekhyun says. He bends over, pulls off a pierce-proof sock. He shakes his foot, and the spines come falling out of his skin. “See?” 

Kyungsoo stares at him in awe as, slowly but surely, his pink-tinged hands and feet lose most, no, _all_ of their sharps. 

“By tomorrow, I expect it will be complete,” Baekhyun says. He lies back down in bed, looks into Kyungsoo’s eyes. “I will be mortal.” 

“No,” Kyungsoo says. “You can’t, you can’t just… you can’t just become human.” 

Baekhyun touches him carefully, a hand cupping Kyungsoo’s cheek. The touch is familiar but _new_. Devastating. “And are you able to stop me?” He smiles, a happy taunt. “Hm? Human? How do you intend to stop me?” 

“I’ll… I’ll do something,” Kyungsoo says. “I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.” 

Baekhyun smiles, that sad, lonely smile like Kyungsoo doesn’t know the depth of this. 

“You cannot stop me from choosing a lifetime with you over an eternity without,” Baekhyun says, and he leans forward, presses his lips to Kyungsoo’s. “It is my decision to make.” 

Kyungsoo’s heart hurts. Baekhyun, immortal, the beautiful forever of him… choosing this end. All because of him. 

“I can’t let you do this.” 

“I am not asking your permission,” Baekhyun says. “You know this.” 

“You should,” Kyungsoo says. “You should ask my permission.” He makes himself say it. “What if I don’t… if I don’t want to spend my life with you?” 

“Oh, my love.” 

“I’m serious.” He steels his jaw, leans back away from Baekhyun. “I don’t want this.” 

“Don’t want what?” He kisses Kyungsoo thoroughly, and Baekhyun can cut right through bullshit like that now. “Don’t want me?” 

“Don’t look into me,” Kyungsoo says. “Don’t listen.” 

“I hear everything you are,” Baekhyun says. “I _feel_ everything you are.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t.” 

“So that it would be easier for you to push me away?” 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says. “If you get it, then just… just stop.” 

“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun says carefully. 

“What? _What?_ ” 

“Do not choose isolation over love,” Baekhyun tells him. He pulls the final needles from his wrists. “Do not make me leave.” 

“I-I… I just—” 

Baekhyun waits. 

“I just don’t know if I’m ready,” Kyungsoo says. “How am I supposed to know if we’re ready for this?” 

“You aren’t supposed to know,” Baekhyun says. “The mystery is part of the charm.” 

“It’s not mysterious to _you_. _You_ know everything.” 

“Not for much longer,” Baekhyun says. “My omniscience returns to the stars when the transition is complete.” 

“B-But you…”

“What?” 

“Not for me,” Kyungsoo says. “I don’t… I’m just me. And you’re…” 

“You are not just anything,” Baekhyun says, kissing Kyungsoo sweetly. “You are multitudes. You are endless.” He shakes his head, smiling. “You never learn.” 

“What?” 

“I fell in love with you because I saw your heart for what it truly was,” Baekhyun says. “I spent thousands of years looking for you, and then, when I found you… well, it was like out of one of your stories.” Baekhyun’s eyes glint, mischievous. “How could I ever choose anything over one little piece of you? It could have been a day, a minute, one single second spent in your company, and I would have traded it in a heartbeat.” 

Kyungsoo shakes with need as he kisses Baekhyun, as Baekhyun’s bare hands finally rest upon every inch of Kyungsoo’s skin. 

“Is that your permission?” Baekhyun whispers. 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says. “You have my permission.” 

Baekhyun laughs, happy and good. 

“As you say.”  
  


☆

  
  
_The next day, the boy sat in the dirt with his legs folded._

_The gardener smiled at him as she opened her hand to show him the seeds._

_“Now, these are very special,” she said, and he made a hole in the dirt with his hands. She gently placed the seeds into the hole, and then, he covered them up with soil, patting them down. “These will live long after we’re gone if we take care of them.”_

_She tipped the watering can over, and she let the earth soak through._

_“I will,” he promised. “I’ll take care of them.”_

_She offered him her hand, and he took it, shaking it eagerly._

_“Then, it’s a promise,” the gardener said. “And it’s very bad to go back on a promise.”_

_He smiled as he got to his feet, and when she struggled, he gave her his hand. He pulled her up and held onto her arm. They walked back to the house together, and she patted his hand in hers._

_“Now, you must remember: it takes a very long time for things to grow,” the gardener said, “but even when we make mistakes, we can always grow something new.”_  
  


☆

  
  
When he wakes the next morning, he turns. Takes Baekhyun’s face in his hand. His hair is still red, red with life, but when he pulls back the covers, Baekhyun’s hands are normal. Free of spines, the same color as the rest of his skin. The perennial blush is gone.

A part of Kyungsoo aches. Something so beautiful… so lovely. Gone. Gone because of him. 

Baekhyun stirs, eyes blinking away sleep, and he frowns. 

“Morning?” Baekhyun asks, and he stretches uncomfortably. “God, I’m… I’m tired.” 

“Get used to it,” Kyungsoo says. “That’s pretty much all being an adult human is. Exhaustion.” 

Baekhyun smiles as he pushes Kyungsoo onto his back, their bodies linked together like the distant stars of constellations. Kyungsoo thinks as he kisses Baekhyun, as they lick into each other’s mouths, tasting love and not much besides. 

_What changes now? What do we do? Where do we go? Is everything ruined now? Do we have to become different people?_

Baekhyun pulls back, smiles down at Kyungsoo. 

“C-Can you really not hear me?”Kyungsoo asks. 

“No,” Baekhyun says, dotting another kiss to the heart of Kyungsoo’s lips. “It’s quiet. It’s nice.” Kyungsoo bites his lip. “What?” 

“Why a cactus?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You could have become anything, right?” Kyungsoo asks. “Why a cactus?” 

“I needed to know that you would notice me,” Baekhyun smiles. “So… so I became something you already loved.” He blinks, water in his eyes. “I became blooming.” 

“B-Blooming?” 

“Life,” Baekhyun explains. “Growth. Green and red and roots.” 

“S-Shut up,” Kyungsoo says, and he can feel the blush rising onto his face. “You talk nicely.” 

Baekhyun bats his lashes before leaning back in, kissing Kyungsoo again, again. It is always better than the time before, and Kyungsoo wonders if this love is exponential. They lie there wrapped in the embrace, satisfied in the most basic way. 

“What do we do now?” Kyungsoo asks. 

“Hm?” 

“Now that you’re… mortal,” Kyungsoo says. “What do we do? I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t really think this far, I don’t have… I don’t have any ideas, I’m just living day to day, and you’re—” 

Baekhyun silences him with a kiss, a quiet, lovely kiss. 

“There isn’t _supposed_ to be a plan,” Baekhyun says. “There isn’t anything we have to do.” 

“I just mean… generally. What do we do?” 

“We live as best we can,” Baekhyun suggests. “What do you think? Is that pleasing to you?” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Ah, it must be. You never roll your eyes unless you think I’m being cute.”  
  


☆

  
  
Three years later, they marry in spring, the season of rebirth.

Baekhyun wears a crown of succulents that Kyungsoo commissions from a local florist. They wear white, and their feet are bare. The ceremony is just the two of them out in the wilderness. They hold hands, and Kyungsoo stares down at where they are tied together, hands and hearts. 

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says. “For finding me.” 

“Thank you,” Baekhyun answers, “for letting me find you. For letting me share this life with you.” 

“It was a life meant to be shared. Thank you for showing me that.” 

“Thank you for allowing me to show you. And thank you,” he says, gathering Kyungsoo into an embrace, “for letting me interrupt the quiet.” 

“I never liked the quiet,” Kyungsoo says.

“Liar,” Baekhyun smiles. 

Kyungsoo presses a kiss to Baekhyun’s collarbone, pulls back. Bumps their foreheads together gently. 

“You wouldn’t know. Would you?” 

Baekhyun steals a kiss, sweet like time. 

“Hush now,” Baekhyun says, a whisper against Baekhyun’s mouth. “We’ve got a forever to get to, don’t we?”  
  


☆

  
  
_The cactus grew great and strong, and when the gardener returned to the stars the next summer, she too was planted in the back of the garden. The flower that grew where she was laid was tall and beautiful, pink and kind, and its stem wrapped around the arm of the cactus. The boy visited the garden every day, watered the flower, and each day, he thought of her words._

_The cactus and the flower lived happy and well, and so too did the boy with the pricked finger._

**Author's Note:**

> written for bibimkokobap and the harem as a whole:  
> sorry that this is so weird. i got excited and you know how that goes.... i start writing fairy tales. regardless of all that, i sincerely hope that you all enjoyed. the support and love that you give me so selflessly is immeasurably important, and i am so grateful for you all. thank you for being my friends. i love you. 
> 
> for everyone else, please just know that you should never bury human ashes. it will kill plants. i wrote this as a pretty metaphor, not as a gardening guide. ok. my spirit rests well now. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading. have a wonderful night. 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/okamiwind) | [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/okamiwind)


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